


Your Name Traced in the Stitchwork

by snufkin commits tax fraud (neonjays)



Category: Moominvalley, Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: First Kiss, Holding Hands, Kissing, M/M, One Shot, Oneshot, Pining, a bit - Freeform, can you tell that i really love moominmamma, yeah i know my previous fic was this too but this one is different
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 06:23:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18565729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonjays/pseuds/snufkin%20commits%20tax%20fraud
Summary: "Now, Moomin could see what Snufkin had been drawing: the mumrik’s page was covered in plenty of small indeterminate sketches, but many of them were a familiar figure. Sketches of Moomintroll were all over the page, some scribbled out, some smiling and some sweet. Moomin loved Snufkin’s art, despite that perhaps the traditional skill wasn’t there. For a moment, Moomin tried to look away, because he knew he was blushing."Sometimes sleepovers lead to first kisses it's just like that





	Your Name Traced in the Stitchwork

Moomintroll was completely elated Snufkin had invited him to stay the night in his tent. Many times had Snufkin stayed in Moomin’s room up to now; however, never had the creature had an opportunity to do the opposite. He had been loving spending evenings in the tent when the air was cool and wind not so heavy. Tonight, it was chilly, and Moominmamma had given her son a large handmade quilt to take along with him on his tiny journey down the hill. In the other hand he had his pillow that he’d stuffed with art supplies; he was hoping to draw with Snufkin. Nothing felt like a nice end of a week like drawing with Snufkin in his tent, beside the creek, with the stars scattered up above in blue.

When Moomin’s feet carried him through the misty grass to the man’s tent, he could see Snufkin was washing his dinner dishes in the creek and tidying up. “Hullo!” The man called out with a wave. Snufkin couldn’t help but smile at Moomin’s presence. “I see you’ve brought things with you.”

“Ah, Yes...” Moomin hid behind a nervous blush and looked away bashfully. “Mamma told me I had to bring this blanket so I wouldn’t get cold. I-I don’t need it or anything.”

“That’s very kind of her. It’s going to be frigid tonight.” Snufkin packed his bowl into his backpack and sat on the old spruce log that had been rolled to his site. “Actually, let’s go inside! I see you’ve brought your drawing materials.”

Moomin grinned wide, unable to get the picture out of his head of Snufkin with a cheery smile flashing back at him with arms behind his back. They went into the tent, Snufkin flicking on his lantern to illuminate the dark interior.

“How was your evening thus far?” Snufkin asked, the two of them cross-legged on the canvas floor with sketch paper newly in their laps, and he set his hat at his side. His heart felt warm at the presence of the other. He had feared he would be nervous with the two of them alone together, but it felt nice and he was much warmer than he would be if he were spending the night alone.

“Good! Mamma made a wonderful stew. Perhaps you should stop by next time she makes it?”

“Her cooking is quite lovely. Perhaps I’ll take you up on that offer.” Snufkin found his pencil tracing out round, wobbly sketches that looked all too familiar. He tried to scribble them out and start over. He drew a tree.

Moomintroll looked down at his drawing, a man with whiskers and a large-brimmed cowboy hat. He wasn’t sure who the drawing was of but he thought he looked handsome. “I met with Snorkmaiden earlier.”

“Oh?” For a moment, Snufkin feared Moomin would say the two had gotten back together. His heart was pounding awaiting the response.

“It was nice to spend time with her as a friend.” Moomin wondered if the idea of the topic would catch on with the other man, and he scooted a bit closer to his friend and looked away sheepishly. “It...feels a lot better this way, if I’m honest.”

“I’m glad you two are dealing with it well.” Snufkin’s pencil scratched small squiggles into the page that wouldn’t make any sense to anyone but himself. The warm light of the lantern brightened up his page, and he hoped his hieroglyphics were not too obvious.

They continued talking as the time flew by deep into the night and cold seeped its way into their space. “It is quite chilly, actually.” Moomin stated, finally breaking what had been a bout of peaceful silence from between the both of them.

“Indeed.” Snufkin scooted himself closer to the other. He wondered if Moomin would pick up on this cue. Moomin shuffled himself closer as well. Snufkin stifled a big smile.

Now, Moomin could see what Snufkin had been drawing: the mumrik’s page was covered in plenty of small indeterminate sketches, but many of them were a familiar figure. Sketches of Moomintroll were all over the page, some scribbled out, some smiling and some sweet. Moomin loved Snufkin’s art, despite that perhaps the traditional skill wasn’t there. For a moment, Moomin tried to look away, because he knew he was blushing.

He looked down at his own drawing of the cowboy man and immediately felt immature.

“Who is that of?”

Moomin felt Snufkin’s breath against his neck as he realized the man was leaning over to see his drawing as well. Snufkin had tilted in far and his head was practically resting on Moomin’s shoulder.

“It-it’s just a character I’ve drawn before. He doesn’t have a name.” Moomin wasn’t sure if he was shivering because of the cold or because of the chills he was getting.

Snufkin leaned back into his own personal space and found himself at a loss for words. Moomin was in a similar state, and neither of them said anything for a good while. Snufkin wondered if Moomintroll’s heart was fluttering as wildly as his own.

This wasn’t the first time they’d had a similar encounter. It wasn’t the second or the third, but it was certainly the most they had ever felt at once. Moomin’s emotions were pooling up and he was terrified of saying something impulsive to break the silence.

“My paws are icy.” Snufkin brought his fingers against his lips and blew hard to warm them. A puff of breath showed up in the air and he remembered the day of the Groke with a smile.

“I’m thankful mine are warm.” Moomin commented. His left paw was on the ground between the two of them. His fingers traced the stitching in the quilt, now beneath them, and he hoped he’d signaled enough. He’d been hoping so for a very long time.

Snufkin draped his hand down his side and let it meet Moomin’s at the floor. He rested it atop, then squeezed gently. The fur on Moomin’s paw was soft and felt gentle and smooth against Snufkin’s fingers. They were both blushing furiously, despite not daring to look in each other’s directions.

Snufkin was comfortable with his own paw on Moomin’s. He’d invited Moomin into his space and instead of feeling anxious, he was feeling warm. He tried to figure out how he felt, to no avail, though he tried to sketch out the feeling with his left hand. Oddly, he found using his left hand to be a bit easier to draw with. He wrote down the word “safe” before scribbling it out into unintelligibleness.

Moomin’s heart was racing at the feeling of Snufkin’s paw in his own. Carefully, he moved his fingers over, and let them interlock with the other’s. The both of them squeezed their palms together and the puzzle-piece fitting felt more natural than anything romantic Moomin had ever felt in the past. He wanted to ask Snufkin if he was feeling romantic but the words got caught on the top of his tongue. His mouth opened and instead he asked a vague “How are you feeling?” Immediately, he regretted his decision to speak, afraid of the confrontation that was coming up.

“I’m feeling much less cold now.” Snufkin replied with a genuine grin. The racing of his heartbeat met the feeling of dragging his left hand’s nails along Moominmamma’s stitch work. “Safe” he traced with his finger onto nothing. "Moomintroll" he traced next. Now, he was looking at Moomintroll again, and he found himself thinking about kissing him for the thousandth time that night and the millionth time that life.

“It keeps getting quiet.” Moomin mumbled. He still kept his hand holding Snufkin’s. “Sorry I’m not much of a talker right now.”

“I’m enjoying your presence.” Snufkin’s voice was soft. He’d scooted to be more facing the other.

“I-I don’t feel like I even need to say anything around you, r-really.” Moomin stuttered through his blushing.

Snufkin fumbled with the edges of the paper on his lap and it slipped off to the side, quickly meeting Moomin’s sketch on the ground.

It fell quiet once more, but this time, they were looking at each other. Moomin had slid his other hand to his knee, now facing Snufkin entirely. He hoped that Snufkin would grab this paw as well.

Snufkin saw the advance, and feelings bubbled up inside him at the thought of how now all their fingers were laced and they were locking eyes. It had never gotten this far before. He was glad for that, because he knew he wasn’t ready before. But now they were alone and together, and he felt comforted by that. He took Moomintroll’s other hand and all their fingers folded together nicely as they held hands in the night in the tent.

Breaths shivering, eyes having a hard time meeting, they couldn’t help but examine each other and try and fail to hold inside crooked, pure grins.

The tension hadn’t stopped growing since the night began and it hadn’t stopped growing since the day they met and became friends. Snufkin thought about how he would travel all year round until the day he met Moomintroll and his dear friends and new companions. They were young then, and Snufkin had found comfort in coming back to one place every year. His tradition formed quickly, and he would smile wider every year he walked into Moominvalley and see his friend’s delighted face.

These past few years, the feeling of missing each other had turned into a deep longing in the hearts of both of them. When Snufkin would arrive in Spring, Moomin’s heart would race a million miles an hour. When Snufkin would leave in the fall, his heart sank even lower every time.

But right now, they felt all of it all at once.

Snufkin didn’t realize he had been staring at Moomin and he wasn’t sure how long he had been doing so. However, the pounding in his chest only got louder when the other spoke.

“Snufkin?” Moomin blurted out finally, never having been so terrified to say something in his life. His lips trembled and heart soared as he squeezed hands tighter with Snufkin.

“Yes?”

“Are we going to kiss?”

Snufkin almost stopped breathing at the words. Not even needing to take a moment to think, he nodded while giving an honest and soft “yes.”

Quickly, Snufkin fumbled to pull his left hand away and he shakily turned off the lantern to rid the tent of shadows making a show for a pair of Little prying eyes.

There was still another pause as the both of them were shocked at what they had just said and shocked again as the tent grew dark. Not quite sure how to do what they were about to, the two tilted their heads to the side, leaned in to each other, and their lips met softly and locked together sweetly. Their eyes closed immediately and Snufkin let out a huff of air against Moomin’s cheek as his shaking left paw came to hold the other side of Moomintroll’s head.

They didn’t know how to kiss, but they were doing it, and parted slightly to breathe in exasperated air before closing the gap once more. It was awkward and fumbling and strange and warm and wonderful and perfect.

Moomin brought his paw to run through Snufkin’s hair, having read such things in books, and got a chill when Snufkin gasped at the action.

The years of built up emotions pooled out there, and they felt as though they were floating on the pink clouds once more.

Then, they quickly shuffled away from each other, unsure what to say or how to act.

“Was that too much?” A still blushing Moomin asked quickly and quietly.

Snufkin shook his head. “No. It wasn’t too much.”

“I’m glad to hear.” The thudding of Moomin’s heart was still loud against his chest, and he looked away once more to the side of the tent. “I don’t know what to say after that, if I’m being honest.”

“Maybe we don’t need to say anything.” Snufkin’s voice was soft in a way that made Moomintroll melt. Moomin had never felt this with Snorkmaiden. But now that he was experiencing this, he couldn’t imagine how anything else had ever felt.

“L-Let’s lay down then. It’s late” Moomin took Moominmamma’s quilt and draped it over himself. “It’s plenty big for both of us, if you’re still cold.”

Snufkin flashed a small smile. “I am, actually.” He climbed in next to Moomin, whose head rested on a pillow but eyes were still wide open. The snufkin’s voice reached a whisper. “We would be less cold closer.”

Moomin reached out his hand to hold Snufkin’s once more, and the two pulled themselves together until Snufkin found himself in a nook under Moomin’s chin, and he was content there, with the other’s arm draped over him, feeling safe and secure as his eyes drooped. They both fell asleep warm under the quilt in the night and in blue.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, also listen to In Blue by Declan McKenna


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